


For Fuck's Sake: Or The Day Eli Lost His Mind...Again

by QueenieKildare



Series: Eli's Emo Blog [3]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Canon Is Stupid So I've Elected To Ignore It, Crack, Crack Relationships, Crack Treated Seriously, I Will Go Down With This Ship, M/M, So Wrong It's Right, Temper Tantrums, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-16 22:20:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21278657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenieKildare/pseuds/QueenieKildare
Summary: Patrick Sheppard, the father of Colonel John Sheppard—the CO of Atlantis, has the sheer gall to decide that he wants a ride on Gibbs' cock…and maybe to keep him. Eli is *not* amused.





	For Fuck's Sake: Or The Day Eli Lost His Mind...Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vamprav](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vamprav/gifts).

> For Vamprav, because you're amazing. You asked for it, so here you go. Also, the idea for this came about because of Jilly and Keira and the 9/20 podcast they did. #Credit not blame...But also blame.

My day began as any other.

I ran my ten miles and spent a further hour and a half doing the yoga. One can never be too limber, after all. And no, the weather was beautiful and pleasant with no rain in sight. Granted, it was quite dusty but not cold or wet. I live in Israel for fuck's sake. _Honestly_.

As I was saying...

I performed my usual daily exercise regime and, after my shower, I consumed a perfectly balanced breakfast. One must not skip breakfast—it sets an atrocious tone to one's day. Breakfast must be balanced, healthy, and yet also tasty. This says nothing of one's accoutrements. If one does not _look_ one's best, then how can one be expected to _feel_ one's best? Or to put one's best foot forward?

I cannot. Obviously.

I deserve the best. And _cardboard_ is not the _best_. _Polyester_ is not the _best_.

But I digress.

I turned my back on my man-bear for a single whole, minuscule hot second. Just for a moment, really.

Not even an entire _day_.

Just a short couple of hours, really. 

And what happens?

That thrice-damned moron in charge of NCIS decides to call back my beloved.

And, what is more, some idiotic, shallow, backwater, goat fucking, chair sitting, mouth-breathing, motherfucker in an Air Force uniform is the one who started the whole damn dominoes falling! _All my hard work ruined._

Months. Ruined.

When I get my hands on the old shit-stain, I shall make the world _tremble_ from the sheer force of my fury.

_Patrick Fucking Sheppard. _

That is the name of the motherfucker who decided that he wanted _my_ man-bear.

The beloved for whom I have spent the better part of a decade building a life for. Preparing a home for. Protecting, nurturing, and cleaning up the fuckups for. The beloved holder of the most beautiful of cocks. The ice-blue eyes that pierce to your very soul—that split the marrow from your very bones. The humble intellect. The most famous of guts.

_My beloved, darling man-bear._

_MINE_.

And this…this fucking _interloper_ thinks they can take my love away? That the soul-deep connection that we have shared is not some passing _fancy_. Our love cannot be measured in something so paltry as _time_—we are so synchronized that our very hearts beat in time. My man-bear was _made_ to be mine. If I were so sentimental as to believe in soulmates, this would describe us.

We are kismet. We are fate. We are destiny.

No egotistical, _old_, goat fucking, _hick_ is going to take my beloved from me.

Forgive my lapse, my friends. I have taken a moment to do the meditation and breathe, and now I am feeling much improved.

As I was saying.

The connection and love that my man-bear shares with me is not something so delicate as to be taken or stolen by some tramp upstart with more money than sense. (Have I mentioned that this _Patrick_ does not have a cock that is even in the same class as my beloved? He is _average_ at _best_. My darling will not be satisfied with such paltry offerings.)

No, we are meant to be. And this _Patrick_, may he rest soon in pieces, cannot come between us.

This is just like the other orgasm friends which my beloved indulged in, in his disastrous past—the worst of which was that horrid _Diane_ woman. Indeed, that woman is a harridan of the first order—a testament to why some women are referred to as "devil women." Her pussy must have been truly incredible to have enticed my beloved to her side. Granted, he quickly saw through her sub-par machinations, but the point stands. 

My beloved has indulged himself in _marriage_ in the past—and not to only a single woman. Oh no, my man-bear can do nothing that is not grand, completely, and ridiculously overdone.

My beloved married _four_ different women. Granted, the first wife was killed by an assassin, and so she does not really count. But the other three are all valid marriages which he quickly came to his senses from and ended. One could even say that the interlopers' ties to my beloved were severed with extreme prejudice.

It is a testament to my beloved's most glorious of cocks that all of his ex-wives still attempt to get a leg over on a semi-regular basis. To this day, his cock remains the single thing they miss from their time with my beloved.

A man-bear indeed.

_Ahem_.

And so I have absolutely nothing to worry about. My man-bear will fuck this _Patrick_, just as he did the various, nameless women he has had. He will get off, the interloper will be put out, and I will go and have myself a chat with this would-be usurper.

All is well with the world. My plans have not been ruined.

My mate is still my own.

_Everything is fine. _


End file.
